Knight Rider: The Next Generation: Normandy Invasion
by xXBlack'BladeXx
Summary: They made her a target. They made her a weapon. But she chose her own path. Based off OLD KR series with nods to the new. Dedicated to the old KITT, because we will love you always, super-car. ;) I DO NOT OWN KNIGHT RIDER. Rated T for violence and some language. ON TEMP. HIATUS WHILE I BRAINSTORM NEW IDEAS FOR IT AND DEAL WITH ANOTHER FIC. I'M CLOSE TO FINISHING. SORRY! ;
1. Prologue

Prologue

Jason Culpeper paced in front of the fireplace, anxiety pouring off him in reeking waves. The winter night was quiet. Far too quiet—just like it always was when she was near. And she _**was**_ near... so near he could almost feel her breathing hotly down his neck already. For four months, he'd been running from her; trying to stay one step ahead; trying to stay alive. But now, he realized it was useless. She wanted his head on a platter... and she always got what she wanted in the end.

Across the room, guarding the entrance, a large burly man stood monitoring a set of security screens. Dressed in combat boots and a Kevlar suit similar to that worn by spec. ops. agents with an automatic in his hands and numerous more guns and knives holstered across his body, this man was simply known as Chief. Taking a hand off his gun, Chief put it to his ear and switched on his comm-link. " Perimeter, report," he ordered, a heavy Russian accent in his gruff voice.

" Alpha team clear," another Russian voice reported.

" Beta team clear," another team returned.

The reports went on.

" It doesn't matter," Jason declared from across the room as he stopped to pour himself another glass of vodka.

Chief turned his attention to the young man, but said nothing.

Culpeper raised his glass to his lips and gulped down the contents before refilling it. " You can't stop her," he went on, sinking down into a large plush arm chair. " No one can stop her."

" 'Her', sir?" Chief snagged up the word.

Jason glanced over his shoulder at his bodyguard and was silent for the longest time. " There's a girl out there, Chief," he finally answered, looking back into the fire, watching the flames as they licked and lapped at the logs, " And she'll stop at nothing to see me dead. I was afraid that if I told you, you wouldn't take the job. I never should've hired you." He seemed to say the last sentence more to himself.

But Chief still heard. " Just who do you have me and my men up against here, sir?" he questioned warily.

" She is known by many names all over the world," Culpeper replied as he took another sip of vodka. " In America, she's called 'The Girl With Red Eyes'. In Romania, her name translates to 'Demon Girl'. Here in Russia, she's known as..."

Chief suddenly interrupted by uttering in Russian.

Jason grinned and couldn't help but chuckle, despite how close he was to the end. " 'Blood Irises'," he translated the name, " yes. You know of her, then?"

" Everyone working the undergrounds and underbellies of the world knows of her," the gruff Russian answered. " She's so notorious as to be labeled a myth."

Culpeper chuckled yet again, except this time it was more of a wry cynical laugh. " Oh, she is very real, believe me. There is nothing mythological about her whatsoever, except maybe for the speculation that she can walk through walls, and sometimes I wonder if that tale is true as well. No, everything about her is as real as those bullets in your gun, and just as deadly too."

Chief released a low whistle. " Wow," he mused, a slight smirk pulling up at a corner of his mouth. " Just what did you do to get her on your tail?"

Jason was silent for a long moment as he looked down at his reflection in the vodka glass. Almost time for a refill. He downed the last swig of the liquid and reached for the bottle on the table to fill up again. At least he'd die in the warm arms of alcohol. " I just stepped out into the open at the right moment, I suppose," he finally answered, voice quiet and thoughtful. He sat back again and took another drink. The man swished the slightly bitter fluid around in his mouth before swallowing, trying to imprint the flavor of it in his brain so he could have at least one pleasant thing to die upon. When he swallowed, he sighed heavily. " My first encounter with her was four months ago at my safe house in the Philippines. You see, Chief, when you're in the kind of business I'm in—deal the kind of people I deal with—you tend to make a lot of enemies. As a result I'd bought the best security detail money can buy to protect me. Last year alone, they'd stopped over two dozen attempts on my life—they even took out a ninja assassin. They were the very best—the very best. But then this girl comes along and takes all fifty of 'em down in ten—maybe fifteen minutes. I barely got away.

" I spent the next two months in Morocco, wondering why she let me get away... and then she came for me. My company itself had sent ten of it's best, most powerful, and most deadly operatives to protect me." Culpeper shook his head and chuckled softly to himself as he recalled the day. " She cut 'em down like wheat. Took her maybe twenty—twenty-five minutes tops. Yet somehow, I managed to slip out the back door again, all the time wondering just how I managed to escape." The man sighed deeply. " And here we are today, and I finally understand her. She wanted me to feel this way. To experience what it's like to realize that you have nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. She wants me to know what it feels like to be helpless, trapped... at the end of the line." Jason looked down at the vodka in his glass, no longer interested in drinking any. A chill suddenly went up his spine. He looked back over his shoulder towards Chief and voiced the question, " How's your perimeter now?"

Chief suddenly looked back at the security screens to find every last one of them showing nothing but static. He burly man cursed in Russian and began frantically typing in codes to try and clear them up, but it didn't work. The cameras were officially off line. Switching on his comm-link again, he began shouting into it, " Perimeter, report! Report, damn it!"

" They say she shows you her face before she kills you," Jason whispered to himself as he began to sip his drink again.

" Report!" Chief ordered again. This time a voice came over the link.

" It's too late for your boss, Chief," the voice belonged to a girl, somewhere in her early teens, " but you still stand a chance. Get out of there, now while you still can."

Chief threw the comm-link away as if it burned him. " Damn!" Then suddenly he heard floorboards creaking outside the door. " Piss!" Chief whipped out his automatic and proceeded to mow-down the wall. Dust and debris flew everywhere. Finally the man took his finger off the trigger and listened carefully as the dust settled. Nothing. Stepping through the demolished door and out into the hall, Chief checked his left. Clear. He moved on to clear his right. No sooner had he turned his back when he heard a soft ring of a blade and felt the sharp tip of a dagger at the nape of his neck. He froze.

" You don't stand a chance, Chief, and I don't want to hurt you," the girl's voice that he'd heard on the link reached his ears. " Put the gun down and your hands behind your head."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chief knelt down and put his gun on the ground, the dagger tip never leaving his neck, then he stood back up and put his hands behind his head. He waited. The dagger left his neck and he acted. Throwing his hands down into fists, he spun and swung for his opponent, but he only hit air. He heard the air shift behind him and spun again with a swing. A masked figure all clad in black swung out of the way of his fist with expert ease. He swung again and she blocked his punch. Kicking out with a leg he meant to aim for her head, but she put up a defensive kick of her own that caught his and forced his leg down, causing him to stumble back. Chief quickly regained his footing and turned back to face his opponent, but she was nowhere in sight. " What?" the man breathed eyes darting around. " Wh-where did you go?" Before he could think a pair of hands had seized hold of his head and with one quick jerk snapped his neck like a twig. His body thudded to the floor.

Releasing a deep, slow exhale the masked girl turned to face the entry to the room. Stepping over Chief's gun she strode into the room, the thick rubber soles of her combat boots making next to no noise one the wooden floor. She stopped just inside the door, eyes locked on the man at the other end of the room. She made no noise but the man didn't need it to know she was there.

" So here we finally are," Jason sighed after a moment. " Me—a mouse in a trap. You—the cat who swallowed the canary. I suppose I should've known it'd come to this." Looking down into his vodka glass, the young man moved it so he could see her reflection in the side of it. " Huh," he chuckled. " So it's all true. The black body-suit, the mask, the optic-visor."

She remained silent.

" So is this how it all ends? You just kill me straight-out, cold?"

"Why not?" the girl finally spoke, her voice rather dark and angry. " It's what you did to my parents."

At that the man laughed. Actually it wasn't more a laugh as it was more a roaring guffaw. Culpeper laughed and laughed and laughed—he laughed until his sides hurt and until tears were streaming down his cheeks. He just couldn't stop laughing!  
The girl said and did nothing. She simply stood in the space by the door, watching Culpeper as he cackled like a madman. Even from her place across the room, she could smell the alcohol wafting pungently off him. With that much alcohol in his system, the girl was amazed he was still conscious, let alone coherent enough to have addressed her. Then again, Culpeper had always possessed the extraordinary ability to hold his alcohol like no other man alive. Perhaps he had been genetically modified as well at one point. Not exactly a powerful ability to have, but maybe being able to hold and withstand extensive amounts of alcohol within the system did have its advantages.

Finally, Jason's guffaws quieted, and then began to stop altogether. He then stood and turned to face his killer—much to the girl's utter and silent amazement. The man wiped his eyes and grinned maniacally at her. " You're gonna have to be a bit more specific, sweetheart," he stated, his voice slightly slurring and possessing the remaining hint of a chuckle. " I've made orphans out of a lot of people in my time; I'm not gonna remember every single one!"

" You mean you don't remember me?"

" That's what I'm saying."

" Then why don't you take a closer look?" the assassin demanded, and with that, reached up and removed her mask and vizor. As the black leather headpiece was pulled away, golden hair streaked with silver was let loose and streamed to the middle of shoulder-blades—her bangs were silver tipped in gold and tapered off a little above her eyebrows. And looking out from beneath those bangs, were two, frightening, blood-red orbs.

The minute her face was revealed, Culpeper gasped and stumbled back, white as a sheet, looking like he'd just seen the Ghost of Christmas Past—in a way, he had. His stomach knotted. It wasn't the child's age that got him—she couldn't have been over thirteen—but those eyes. Those eyes! This couldn't be happening! It just couldn't be happening! He gulped. " Y-you!"

The girl's face remained impassive however. She dropped her mask and stepped on it as she tread a bit closer towards the petrified man, shattering the optic-vizor. She held her arms off to the side, as if giving Culpeper a better look of her. " Remember me now, Jason?"

" Y-you're alive!" Jason panted, sweat beading on and running down his forehead.

" I am," the teenager agreed pragmatically.

Culpeper shook his head." B-bu-but that-that's impossible!"

" Is it, now?"

" You're supposed to be dead! H-how in hell are you alive?!"

" I guess you'd have to ask your operatives that," the girl answered with a shrug. Then she looked as if she'd just remembered something. " Oh, wait," she mockingly gasped. " You can't. I put 'em six feet under, as payment for what they did to my mother and father—for what _**you**_ and _**Dark**_ made them do to my mother and father."

" You were supposed to be at the house. You were supposed to be inside when it burnt to the ground!" Jason declared, trembling as he continued to back up farther and farther away from the assassin. " You were supposed to die along with them! Oof!" The man tripped over the coffee table and fell to the floor.

" Well, obviously I wasn't, so I didn't," the teenager hissed. Almost seemingly out of nowhere, she suddenly whipped out a pair of beautifully crafted but merciless looking sai daggers. Her step became faster as she advanced upon him. " You had them taken from me, Culpeper. You had them slaughtered in cold blood and you had them taken from me!" Pain and rage were both evident in the child's voice and her eyes glistened with tears. " Enhancing me, turning me into a freak and a monster, targeting me; that's all one thing. But to take my family from me?!"

" Your fates were sealed the day your parents took you and walked away from the organization," Jason explained, trying to scramble to his feet. " Your parents knew their chances and they took them. We may have turned you into a freak, Winters, but a monster? Sorry to break it to ya, kid, but that's the work of your daddy and your uncle, not Dark. _**We're **_not the ones that turned you into a child assassin."

" I'm _**not **_a child!" the teenager screamed suddenly, stopping in her advance, body rigid and defensive. " Not anymore." She picked up her step again and stalked towards Culpeper. " Even if you didn't train me," she snarled, " you still made what I am possible. That makes you guilty." With that, the girl lunged forward with a roar and stabbed both sai through the man's chest: one dagger penetrating him on the left side, just a centimeter or two above his heart, and the other puncturing the same area on the right side of his chest. She held the weapons there for a moment, watching as her victim's wide eyes glazed over with shock and pain and blood ran down the front of his suit. Slowly, she pulled them back.

Once the knives had left his body, Jason crumpled to the floor and laid there, gasping for breath. He coughed and spat up blood. Looking up at his assassin, who was standing silently before him, watching his every move with dead, emotionless eyes, he glowered and pulled back his lips in a weak snarl. " Go to hell, Normandy."

Normandy stripped off her bloodied gloves and threw them at the man's feet. " You first, Culpeper." With that, she turned on a heel and marched out of the room. She stopped beside the large hole in the wall and dug into a pocket of her utility belt. A second later she pulled out something silver and shiny. For a moment she fiddled with it, apparently typing in something, since Jason could hear soft beeping, and then turned back to him, the object in question still in her grasp. " You had my family burned," she announced, face still cold and distant. " Now it's my turn to burn you." The teenager then turned and slapped the device to the wall. She glanced at Culpeper once more. " Burn, Jason Culpeper." The exited the room, pressing the red button on the device on the way out.

A few minutes later, Normandy was just exiting the steps of the large mansion. She descended the cobblestone stairs and marched off down the long driveway of the estate towards the large wrought iron gates at the other end; a single solitary black figure against the stark white snow. Fifteen yards away from the house, the teenager slowly began counting. " Ten, nine, eight..." she now passed the large, icy fountain, "... seven, six, five, four..." she'd gained five more yards, a safe enough distance away for her, "... three, two, one."

Behind her, the west wing of Culpeper's mansion exploded with a deafening boom. A second later the east wing did the same thing. Finally the center of the house exploded as well. Soon the mansion was engulfed in flames, taking the bodies of the guards, the evidence of her presence, and Culpeper with it.

Heat wrapped around Normandy like a hot blanket, making her sweat. Above her snow started to fall, covering the tracks she left behind. Around her ember's flew. Only when she reached the gates, did the teenaged assassin turn and gaze upon the sight of her latest work. " Another one down," she said to herself, " dozens more to go." As the fire engulfed the house, the flames shone in the emotionless, cold, blood-red pits of her eyes—the eyes of a killer.


	2. The Teenager & the Trans Am

" I don't wanna fade out-I don't wanna fade in... like everybody should. I don't wanna fade out-I don't wanna fade in... like everything before..." Paloalto; _Fade Out-In_

1

The Teenager & The Trans Am

Seven Years Ago;

A man and woman sat on a bench in a mind-numbingly white room. They were both somewhere in their mid- to late twenties with blond hair—the man's slightly darker than the woman's. The woman had light blue eyes and the man had dark brown. They both had fair skin and they both looked worried.

Between them sat a child, not much older than six. She was small, sickly pale, and very, very thin—so thin that she almost appeared to be a living skeleton. The white gown that she wore came to her ankles, just allowing her dainty feet to peek out at the bottom. Large—almost too large—brown eyes that matched those of her father's peered out from her gaunt and hollow face while tiny, bony, cold hands nervously played with her waist long, white-blond hair. She seemed so frightened... so fragile, like a baby bird. The child trembled.

Automatically, her parents put their arms around her and slid closer to her, enveloping her in a hug. They met each others eyes. For the millionth time, they asked themselves the same question: was this the right thing to do? Their daughter was deathly ill—had been for almost two years now—and every doctor and specialist they'd been to could do nothing to help her. They hadn't even known what had ailed her! But then they had been discovered by Dark, an organization that specialized in genetics and other sciences of the human body, and had met with the president of the organization. She had told them of a special operation they were doing—something that had to do with making people stronger, faster, smarter... healthier. She'd told them the operation could save their little girl. Like any devoted and desperate parents, they'd taken the deal without any thoughts as to what the cost could be. They didn't care what they had to pay; all they wanted was their baby to be healthy again.

Suddenly a door banged open, making them all jump. They looked up to see two men: one was dressed in a lab coat, the other was in what almost looked to be a containment suit. " We're ready for the girl," the man in the lab coat stated, no emotion whatsoever in his voice.

The child's already wide and fearful eyes grew even more wide and fearful, but she got to her feet anyway. She didn't want to be sick anymore either. Taking a few steps forward, she paused and looked back at her parents, who only gave her—or at least tried to give her—reassuring smiles and a nod of their heads. She turned back to look at the two men. The man in the lab coat was tall, thin, bald, and stared at her with such a cold expression that a shiver ran down her spine, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She couldn't see the face of the man in the containment suit, and she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

That's when the man in the containment suit held out a large, gloved hand. " Come, girl," he ordered, his voice firm and somewhat harsh. " It's time."

Slowly, hesitantly, the girl reached out and took his hand. She was nearly lurched out of the room, the door slamming closed behind her, cutting her off from her parents.

* * *

Present Day;

The air was absolutely frigid, and snow was still lightly drifting down around a solitary figure walking across the landscape. Normandy watched as her breath came out her nostrils in puffs of white. Walking silently with her hands in her pockets, the thirteen-year-old could care less that she could no longer feel her ears of the tip of her nose. If anything she welcomed it. She liked the numbness and biting cold because it was better than feeling the painful void that had plagued her for so long now. It had been three years since the murder of her parents, and the teenager wasn't sure if she'd ever heal from the devastating loss. Every day was hell without them. Granted that wasn't really saying a lot, considering that, even before their death, her life had been hell since her enhancement, but at least her parents had made it somewhat bearable with their undying love and devotion. True, she still had her uncle, who loved her just as much as her parents had and viewed her as his own daughter, but it just wasn't the same. The girl silently wondered if she'd ever feel that kind of love again.

Sighing, Normandy kicked at a small snow pile, causing it to scatter everywhere. To think normal human teens thought they had it hard! Suddenly she heard it—a snap of a branch followed by the very light crunch of snow under feet. The girl's ears pricked to the sound of breathing. Slowly, carefully, expertly, Normandy reached behind her, up the back of her jacket, and into a hidden slit at the back of her body suit, grabbing the tsuka—or handle—of one of her sais which were sheathed in the special ribbing of her leather suit. Making no noise, she slipped it out, gripping the leather-bound handle firmly. She waited. All of a sudden there was another crunch of snow and an unnatural air shift to her left. Tossing the sai and catching it expertly by the moto—center-most main blade of the dagger—the teenaged supersolider whipped around and chucked it in the direction of the disturbance. Soon enough there was a solid _**thunk! **_followed by a startled yelp. Reaching back again, Normandy brought out her other sai and dashed in that direction. She pushed through a snow-covered thicket and was met with the source of her noise. Her eyes bulged wide. " Glen?"

A Caucasian male, somewhere in his early forties of middling-sized height, had been the source of the noises. He had a light brown flat-top and green-gray eyes and was clean shaven, dressed in a black, athletically built thermal suit. The main point though, was that he was pinned to the trunk of a tree with Normandy's dagger. He was gaping at the sai through his jacket with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Slowly, he looked at the girl. " Damn, Normandy!" he exclaimed. " You coulda friggin' killed me!"

Shaking off her surprise, Normandy scowled at the man and stormed over to him. She stopped before him and rested her hands on her hips. " Well, it's not _**my **_fault," she snapped. " You wouldn't be in this situation right now if you hadn't been following me!" The teen scoffed and rolled her brilliant red eyes. " Seriously, Glen, how many times have we been over this? Don't sneak around me when I've just been on a mission." With her arms now crossed over her chest, Normandy looked down at the snow and muttered, " You're lucky the snow muffled your steps; I misjudged my toss. A few more inches and that dagger'd be embedded in your heart."

Glen nodded. " Yeah, and then where'd you be?" He turned back to the sai, grasped the handle, yanked it out, and tossed it at the thirteen-year-old.

Without even looking, Normandy caught the sai between the index and middle fingers of her right hand, each finger on either side of the center blade. She then whipped the weapon around, the blade singing as it sliced the air. Catching the sai by the handle, she gracefully and expertly replaced it in the ribbing of her suit. She turned away. " What're you doin' following me anyway, Glen?" she asked, heading back in the previous direction she'd been going. " What, did you follow me to Culpeper's place?"

Glen, who had previously been examining the damage inflicted to his coat, now followed after the gold and silver-streaked haired super-soldier. " Yes and no," he answered.

" 'Yes and no'?" Normandy repeated him, arching an eyebrow. " What the hell does that even mean?"

" Yes, I did follow you," the man explained, " I just didn't follow you all the way. I stopped about five miles away from the estate." Glen snorted. " You'd think that if he was in hiding, he'd choose something like an underground bunker or something to hide in instead of a fancy-shmancy place like that."

Normandy sighed. " Yeah, well, Culpeper was vain. He was never one for downplaying what he had. But for the record, though, that mansion was awful plain and more down-stated than the rest of his estates." The girl chuckled. " And now it's a pile of ashes." There was a self-pleased tone in her voice and a smirk on her lips.

" Yeah, along with everybody else in the house along with Culpeper," Glen muttered.

The smirk immediately melted from Normandy's face, as did the sanctimonious feeling in her chest. She stopped walking. Her head lowered so that her bangs and hair hid her face. A few sudden tears bit her eyes. " You got somethin' you wanna say to me?" she inquired, voice almost a growl. She didn't like to discuss what she did, leastwise of all with the person who set up these missions.

" Don't I usually?"  
" For the love of God, Glen, spit it out already."

" All right then, here it is. Quite a body count on this one, Norm," once again, Glen's baritone voice had become soft and quiet. " Culpeper was the only one on Dark's payrole."

Releasing a heavy sigh, Normandy bit her lip and closed her eyes tight to keep the tears from falling. She hated this talk. She endured after almost every assassination, and she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to take it. It certainly didn't help that these last few missions had been riddled with numerous additive slayings of bodyguards—people innocent as to the actions of their employers. But Normandy had a method for writing the extra blood off, and she used it for her reply now. " They were working for Culpeper, that makes them Dark by extension; it had to be done." And with that, she strode out again. She'd just crested a small ridge when Glen suddenly grabbed her arm and spun her to face him.

" Was it?" the man prodded, giving her a look that demanded an answer.

The girl simply responded by giving him a hard look.

Glen quickly released her arm. He held his hands up in a surrendering position and backed off. " Okay."

Sighing again, Normandy closed her eyes and turned away. Then she put to use another strategy to try and push away the guilt. " Anyway," she breathed after a minute, opening her eyes and stepping out again, " it was all in self-defense. They were gonna kill me."

Glen rushed after her. Dang, this kid was fast! " Right," he agreed as they trekked the last few yards to the small, secluded cabin they'd rented for the month. " Speaking of killing," he continued as they mounted the steps to the front door, " I've got another hit lined up for you."

" No," Normandy retorted with a shake of her head as she opened the cabin door.

" 'No'?" Glen repeated in disbelief. " What do you mean, 'no'?" He stepped inside and closed the door.

" Just by what I mean," Normandy answered as she stripped off her boots. " No."

" But, Norm..."

" I'm tired, Glen," the girl sighed, knowing he'd keep goading her until she gave him a reason. Sometimes he was so much like a little kid! Groaning, she set her boots off to the side, stood, and met his eyes as she began to take off her jacket. " I'm tired, and I need a break." She let her jacket drop and unzipped her black leather and spandex body-suit. Once it was unzipped, she slipped her arms out of it and let it pool on the floor, leaving her in only her socks, spandex shorts, and army green tank-top. The teen stepped out of it. Bending down to pick both it and the jacket up, she folded them over her arm and headed down the hall to her room. " We have this place for two more weeks," she stated. " Let's just relax. Take a vacation. Lord knows we need it—well, _**I **_do anyway. I'm the one who does all the work. You just get the information and set up the means of getting to the location.

Finishing undressing from his outer-wear, Glen followed her down the hall. " And you don't think that's as stressful as what you do?" he teased.

The girl snorted. " Puh-lease!" she exclaimed. She turned to open the door to her room when suddenly a large hand reached out and grabbed the knob before she could. She looked up to meet Glen's green-gray eyes. Oh, no. She knew that look. That soft, gentle, looking-deep-into-her-soul—or more like _**lack**_ of soul in her case—look.

" I'm just saying it's a _**big**_ one this time, Norm," the man whispered.

" It always is, Glen," the girl moaned, rolling her eyes.

" I mean it this time. This could knock the whole foundation on its..."

" Uncle!"

The man shut up. Giving a defeated nod, he turned away and headed back off down the hall.

Leaning against the door post, Normandy lowered her eyes to the floor. She fidgeted. She was tired—beyond that actually; she was _**exhausted**_. She desperately needed a holiday... but if what her uncle said was true... " Who is it?" she called, not looking up. " Just... tell me."  
Her uncle stopped and turned. " The head honcho herself," he answered.

" Lara Goodman," Normandy whispered, hate-beyond-hate tight in her voice.

" The one and only."

The thirteen-year-old's jaw and fists clenched. Of every person with Dark, Lara Goodman was the one she absolutely despised the most. It was she who was behind everything Dark did. It was she who had ordered Normandy's enhancement—turning her into a monster and weapon. It was she who had ordered the death of the girl's parents. For as long as she could remember, Normandy had made a solemn vow to see to it personally that that witch of a woman would rot in hell. And now here was her chance.

Glen waited as his niece thought it over. When she said nothing for a long time he shrugged and said, " Ah, forget it, sweetheart. We can always get her another time."

Normandy shook her head. " There may very well not be another time," she replied. " That snake hardly ever leaves her hole, and when she does, it's nearly impossible to track her down."

Her uncle nodded in agreement. " You're right," he sighed. Then he walked back towards her and put a hand on her shoulder, causing the child to look up and meet his gaze once more. Again he stared deep into those red eyes. " This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Normandy."

After gazing into his eyes for a moment, the girl looked away again. " Where is she?" she asked after a few seconds.

" Southern California."

" We'd take off tomorrow?"

" First thing in the morning."

Carefully, Normandy thought it over, weighing the pros and cons. Finally she nodded. " Set it up." With that, she walked into her room and closed the door behind her.

* * *

FLAG Headquarters in Southern California;

" Okay, KITT," Debra Knight grunted as she slid out from beneath the black '82 Pontiac Trans Am, " that about does it I think." She stood up and brushed a strand of wavy brown-blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail out of her sky blue eyes. The twenty-year-old woman was the eldest daughter of Michael and Bonnie Knight. Like her mother before her, she had chosen the career of being a cybernetic technician—KITT's cybernetic technician to be exact.

" Excellent work, Debra," KITT's smooth, gentle voice rose up from the car. The scarlet scanner on the prow of the Trans Am whooshed back and forth at a quick, happy pace. " I've never felt better. You have most definitely inherited your mother's steady and deft hands."

The young woman smiled at him. " Why thank you, KITT," she laughed. Picking up a grease rag, she began to wipe off her smudged and dirty face. She'd just spent the last hour and half washing, fixing, recalibrating, detailing, and all-in-all fine-tuning the AI and his car form from the last mission he and her father had been on. As usual, the mission and Michael had left KITT pretty beaten and dirtied up, and since Bonnie had retired from mechanic work and moved higher up on the FLAG chain of command (she held somewhat of a director position now) it was Debra's job to get KITT back in tip-top running condition. Well, her's and Zoe Chae's, but lately the young Asian woman had been working on the Knight Industries Three Thousand: a modified black Ford Shelby GT500KR Mustang that would be KITT's new body once Mike took over the Knight Rider position.

Michael Knight Jr.—Debra's older brother and eldest of all the Knight children—would be taking over the position as KITT's partner from their father in a little over a week. Well, technically he'd take over the position tomorrow night at the foundation retirement banquet they were holding for their father, but it wouldn't be until next week sometime when Mike would finish his training and the Knight Three Thousand would be up and running. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with KITT's old shell, it's just that Mike liked Mustangs better. So the AI was to be transferred.

Nobody had asked KITT what he thought of it, and he wouldn't say otherwise what he thought, but deep down inside his silicon shell, the AI was feeling something that could be considered sad at the prospect of leaving his old body. He'd grown fond of his Trans Am housing over the years, and he liked how sleek and unique it was. There weren't many other cars of that make being driven around anymore. But of course, KITT would never complain. This came as part of the territory, part of the job, and he'd endure it. Besides, he was sure that soon enough his new body would start to feel like home too... even if it would never be quite the same. Until then, however, the AI would make the most of his last few days inside his old body.

" How is your father taking the idea of a retirement banquet?" KITT questioned Debra as she began to clean up her tools and work area. His old partner hadn't mentioned anything of the concept to him.

" Oh, you know, Dad," Debra replied with a wolfish grin. " Doesn't want to retire, and can't understand why anybody would wanna throw a banquet to celebrate a retirement."

" That sounds like Michael, all right," KITT chuckled.

" But, even though he doesn't say it or act like it," Debra added, " I think deep down, Dad's touched that people would be willing to do this for him."

Suddenly the sound of an opening door drew both the woman and the AI's attention. They turned their attention up to the catwalk to see Mike coming down the steps. Debra laughed. " Well, speak of the devil," she said, standing up and going to her brother. " If you're down here to try and sneak another peek at your car, forget it," she told him, perching her fists on her hips and giving him a playful smirk. " You're not gonna see it until it's finished."

Mike grinned (he most definitely had his father's grin) and laughed at his younger sister. " Don't worry," he assured her with a shake of his head. " I learned my lesson last time."

Debra gave him a quizzical look.

" What happened last time?"

" Zoe took a baseball bat to me," Mike admitted, blushing slightly.

Debra busted out laughing. " Yup," she nodded. " I can see that happening."

" Anyway," Mike went on. " I actually came down here to talk to KITT."

Debra's eyes slightly widened in surprise. It's not that it was _**unusual**_ for her brother to speak with KITT, but it's just that Mike would usually spend his free-time with Sarah Graiman—his girlfriend who was a scientist (of sorts) for the Foundation. She was also a very good friend of Debra's. And besides, didn't Mike have a speech that he had to write and practice for the banquet? " Oh," Debra replied, still looking stupefied. " Do you want me to leave then?"

" No," Mike answered, putting his hands on her shoulders. " No, Deb, you can stay." He sighed heavily. " You should probably hear this too anyway."

His sister's expression shifted from one of surprise to one of worry and suspicion. " Uh-oh," she murmured. She pulled out a stool and sat down, arms crossed over her chest. " This can't be good."

* * *

Russia;

Normandy leaned over the bathtub and turned off the water. Slipping out of her lavender bathrobe, the thirteen-year-old stepped into the tub and slipped down into the water. She gasped sharply and gritted her teeth, grimacing. The water was hot; as hot as she could force herself to stand, and that was just short of scalding. Of course, thanks to her enhancement, scalding temperatures for her were much hotter than for normal humans. Any normal human who sank down into a tub containing as hot of water as this one did would've received third degree burns. That wouldn't happen to Normandy—she'd just come out with rosy-tinted, steaming, tender skin—it was still hard on the nerves. However, as always, the child welcomed it. Feeling physical pain was a hell of a lot better than feeling that emotional, painful void that had plagued her day in and day out for the last three years. It was better than feeling numb. It was better than feeling the guilt...

" _No!_" Normandy told herself firmly. " _Enough! All of those bodyguards worked for Dark directors. They were getting paid with Dark money, and they were going to kill you. They deserved what they got._" Even as she told herself this for the millionth time, the teenager knew the words were falling on deaf ears... or _**heart**_, as it were. She would never believe them. Not for as long as she lived.

Sighing heavily, Normandy laid back against the back of the tub, reveling, in the pain. Truth be told, she used to cut exclusively. But cutting alone wasn't enough, and, in all honesty, she got enough of blood as it was. Besides, she hated her blood. As far as that went, she hated nearly everything about herself, and she didn't see how anyone else could love her. But she would never take the easy way out—at least not yet. She still had unfinished business... with Dark. More specifically: with Lara Goodman.

But that was for another day. Right now, all Normandy wanted to do was try and relax. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and slipped below the water. Inside her head, she began counting. " One minute... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight..." Her lungs started to ache. " Nine... ten... eleven... twelve..." Her lungs were on fire; the veins in her neck started popping out. " Thirteen... fourteen... fifteen... sixteen..." She needed air—_**now! **_Breaking through the water's surface, Normandy came up gasping and sputtering and coughing. Her head throbbed; her heart pounded. Damn, only sixteen minutes—it wasn't good enough! She was still too weak! Breathing deeply, the girl pushed her hair back out of her face, then looked at her arms. Pinkish-red: time to get out. Groaning, the child grasped the sides of the bath and pulled herself up, her joints—despite how young and limber they were—creaking, cracking, and groaning. Grabbing the towel she'd set out, she proceeded to dry off: torso, appendages, hair. When she was finished, she threw the towel in the hamper and pulled her robe back on, tying it securely around her as she let the water out of the bath and strode across the bathroom to the door. For a split second she looked up and her eye caught on the fogged up mirror of the medicine cabinet. She froze in her tracks.

Several long minutes followed where she simply continued to stare at the rectangular reflecting surface, and then she finally moved towards it. She hesitantly reached out with a hand and wiped the steam away from the surface. Her reflection stared back out at her. For a long time she stood there, examining herself. Long golden hair streaked with silver and silver bangs tipped in gold—a result of her enhancement. Long-lashed red eyes—also a result of the procedure. An unblemished face that was slightly roundish and hadn't known the touch of make-up in all her thirteen years of life. A button nose. Higher set cheekbones. Lips that weren't excessively large and wide, but weren't really small and thin either. Most folk would have said she had an attractive face, but Normandy saw nothing attractive about it. All she saw when she looked in a mirror was a cold, empty, broken, blood-thirsty monster. That's all she was. That's all she was ever going to be. A single tear trickled down her cheek before she wiped it away and turned away from the mirror to walk out of the room. A monster. She would forever be a monster.

* * *

Southern California;

" What'd'ya mean you're not gonna be the new Knight Rider?!" Debra practically screeched.

KITT sat there in stunned silence. He had never suspected this to happen, and it was safe to say that the news had cut him to the quick.

Mike grimaced and all but slapped his hands over his sister's mouth. " Deb, please!" he begged. " Not so loud."

Debra rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips... despite how awkward that was while sitting on a stool, but lowered her voice anyway as she went on. " But, Mike, you've wanted this your whole life," she pointed out. " Ever since we were kids all you've ever talked about was growing up to become the new Rider and driving KITT around and thrashing bad guys. What happened?"

Mike suddenly diverted his eyes to the floor and shoved his hands in the pocket of his jacket. " I..." he stammered, "... I..." he mumbled something that not even KITT could pick up.

" What?" Debra asked.

" I'm afraid you will have to speak up, Mike," KITT proclaimed at the same time.

" I... got engaged."

There was a long period of dead silence. A _**very **_long period. Finally Deb and KITT snapped out of it.

" Congratulations, Mike!" KITT exclaimed, sounding genuinely happy for the young man.

" That's so amazing!" Debra squealed. She leaped up and threw her arms around her brother's neck and caught him in a tight embrace. " I'm so happy for you and Sarah!" Suddenly she loosened her grip and pulled away slightly, giving him a careful look. " It _**is**_ Sarah, right?" she asked, warning in her voice.

Mike chuckled. " Yes," he assured her. " It's Sarah."

Grinning even wider, Debra threw her arms around him again. " That's incredible!" After a moment she pulled away from him again. " When did it happen?"

" Last week."

" And you two kept it from us this whole time?!" Debra accused, punching his shoulder.

" We wanted to announce it at the banquet tomorrow night, to everyone."

" That seems reasonable," KITT agreed.

" But what does this have to do with you not wanting to be the new Rider?" Debra prodded.

" Well, a lot actually," Mike answered, moving to sit down on the stool. " Do you remember when we were a lot younger and Mom and Dad almost went through a divorce?"

" Yeah," his sister answered. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms. The idea of her parents splitting up still scared her and gave her goosebumps. " Something to do with his work and him never being home and her never knowing if he would come back or not."

" And he almost didn't a few times," Mike replied.

" That is true," KITT interjected. " Your father and I had many close calls on many of the missions we took." The AI could still recall those times and how he had not only sensed Michael's fear but a sensation inside of him as well that could have been considered fear. They'd always managed to pull through, but sometimes just barely.

" So you don't want to be the Knight Rider anymore because of Sarah?" Debra questioned.

" Not really. Sarah and I have discussed it and she's said she'll support me if I choose to be the Knight Rider anyway. But, I dunno... I'm just not feelin' it anymore, sis. It's got no appeal to me anymore."

" So you simply do not wish to be my partner anymore?" KITT summed it up, trying to keep the dryness out of his voice.

" Somethin' like that," Mike answered.

" Oh," was all the Trans Am had to say.

" Look, KITT, it's not you, it's me," the young man tried to explain.

" Michael, I am not a female you're attempting to break up with," the AI sighed. " I can understand completely why you wouldn't want to live the life your father did. You're engaged to a lovely young woman, and you wish to be married and have a family. I can see that."

" So you don't mind?"

" No, not really."

" Thanks, buddy."

" No trouble at all."

Suddenly Debra was back in her giddy state. " Oh, my gosh!" she squealed like a school girl. " I gotta go congratulate Sarah!" With that, she took her leave and barreled out of the main garage.

" Hey, Deb, wait up!" Mike ran after her.

As soon as the door to the garage banged closed, signaling that they were truly gone, KITT allowed the scanner on his nose to slow down to a gloomy, slow pace. He couldn't deny that he was disheartened by this news. Oh, he was glad for Mike and Sarah, and he was happy that they were planning on starting a new life together, but that still didn't soften the fact that he no longer possessed a partner. There was no one for him to protect or perform missions and fight crime with. He felt left out; pushed aside; even abandoned. Above all he felt useless. What good was he now with no human partner to help him fulfill his programming? What would even happen to him now? Would they retire him, just like they were Michael? He wasn't ready to quit the fight yet; he still had too much left in him to retire. Would they try to find him a new partner? KITT couldn't imagine himself with anybody but Michael or his son, and in all honesty, he was feeling nervous at the thought of being placed with a new partner—someone he didn't know, let alone trust. " _What will happen to me now?_" KITT questioned himself. The AI had never felt so lonely and obsolete in all his time of being online.


	3. Preparation

**I do not own Knight Rider (unfortunately): I only own my OC and any other characters you may not recognize.**

* * *

X-Ray Dog; _Screaming Souls_

2

Preparation

Seven Years Ago;

The little girl was afraid. Worse; she was terrified. She was nearly naked, except for a black spandex tube top and shorts outfit, and was strapped to a cold, unforgiving grated, metal table, her white-blond hair pulled into a tight, neat pony-tail. Above her was a single, blinding, white, sterile light illuminating only her and a tub of funny smelling, sparkling clear fluid below her, leaving the rest of the room beyond her vision pitch black. She was without her parents, for the first time since she'd gotten sick, in the strange, dark, creepy place with people she didn't know and who were mean. They weren't mean as in hitting her or yelling at her—in fact it was quite the opposite: they said _**nothing**_ to her. Absolutely nothing. They would creep around her without making a noise or saying a word and then they would suddenly appear out of nowhere with stone-cold, hard, mean looking faces, and they would poke her and pinch her with needles. But the child never screamed or cried or whimpered. She was too afraid to.

Unexpectedly, a voice boomed out, startling the girl and causing her to slightly jump, which made the bonds that held her down bite into her tender pale skin. The child bit against the pain, refusing to make a sound. She didn't know what these people would do to her if she made noise.

" We're ready to begin," the voice said. The voice was female, but very deep and sinister sounding with some sort of funny accent that the child had never heard before.

" _Ready to begin what?_" the little girl thought to herself. She was so busy wondering what was going on that she didn't notice the man in the containment suit come into the light until he was right above her, staring down at her through the little window in his suit. The child started at him, and then she got a look at what he was holding. A large syringe with some sort of bubbly blue liquid and an absolutely _**huge **_needle. The little girl stared at that needle for a very long time, her large brown eyes growing even larger. Then she gulped and looked up at the man. She couldn't really see his eyes, but she knew the general location of them and she gave him a pleading look. " Please," she whimpered, speaking for the first time since she'd been separated from her parents, " I want my mommy and daddy."

The man said nothing.

The child tried yet again to appeal to his better nature. " Please?" she repeated, her voice very small and meek. " I want my mommy and daddy. I... I-I-I'm scared."

At that the man replied, " Good. You should be." And with that he practically jammed the needle down into her jugular vein and injected the blue fluid.

The child screamed in both terror and pain as the needle entered her flesh. But then the needle was gone, and half a second later she was encountered with a whole new pain. It was excruciating! It started at the injection site, went up through her head, down into her torso, then into her arms and down through her legs to the very tips of her toes and back again to repeat the cycle. The child thought there was lava pouring through her veins. Every time the serum passed through her heart to be distributed it felt as though it were being torn apart. Her head felt like it would explode! The serum passed through her systems three more times, each time making the pain even more and more unbearable, and then suddenly as soon as it had come it went. The little girl stopped screaming and moaned in relief. Going limp against the table, she heaved and panted as sweat soaked her body, trying to cool her down. All at once her entire body felt funny. Not painful like before but... weird. " I feel..." the child mused, only about half-aware of what she was saying, "... tingly."

" That's it," the woman's voice boomed again, jolting the girl back to reality.

" _What's it?_" the girl asked herself again. She barely even had time to think the question before the grated table jolted and she was suddenly moving downward towards the tub of crystal liquid. The liquid surged up through the openings in the grate, and when it hit her skin the tingling sensation stopped and was immediately replaced by white-hot pain. The girl screamed and wailed again, tears leaping out of her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. She hurt! She didn't like this! She wanted this to stop! She wanted Mommy and Daddy! " **MOMMY!**" the child voiced her desire at the very top of her lungs. " **DADDY!**" She kept screaming for them, but they didn't come. The child took a deep breath and screamed one more time. " **DAD...**" she was cut off as the funny smelling, burning liquid invaded her mouth.

The liquid was all around her now. It was in her mouth and throat; in her nose; in her eyes and ears; in every crevice of her small frame that it could reach. It stung and burn and bit like no other.

Beneath the devil-fluid the child screamed with all her might. Her lungs burned from both the liquid and the lack of air. She couldn't take this anymore! She wanted out! She _**needed **_out!

* * *

Present Day in Southern California;

**[A/N I kind of imagine this part as that part in Daredevil where Elektra is training with the sandbags for her revenge on Daredevil.] **Normandy was in an old, large gymnastics gym. It was part of the abandoned building Glen had decided to set them up in, in order to save money. The building was old, dusty, and falling apart, but the studio was still in decent shape, and, as Normandy had quickly deduced, made an excellent place to workout and train. And that's what she was doing now. Despite the fact it had only been a couple hours since she and her uncle had gotten off the plane after a near twenty-four hour flight back in time, the teenaged assassin had spent that time fashioning the gym into a training room, complete with makeshift dummies and sandbags that would swing down from the ceiling like pendulums (that part of the construction had taken a little assistance from Glen).

With her eyes closed and her gold and silver hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, the thirteen-year-old knelt in the center or the room, waiting, timing, mentally preparing herself for the course. Adrenaline pumped through her system. She was sweating with anticipation, her tight, red spaghetti-strapped tanktop already soaked through at the neck and chest, back, and beneath the armpits. Beneath her black spandex leggings, her leg muscles her taut and ready. Her black and gray specially built athletic shoes gripped at the wood floor beneath her feet, assuring her that they wouldn't allow her to slip. Across her back was sheathed a katana, in a holster at her left hip was a throwing knife, and in her taped up hands were her sai. She held the sai outstretched from her, gripping them in a way where her index, ring, pinkie fingers, and thumb were between and wrapped around the yoku—the symmetrical side guards of the sai—and the monouchi—shaft of the sai—of each dagger. Her middle fingers rested on the side of the center-blade (monouchi). Letting the tips of the sai just barely touch the floor, Normandy smoothly and slowly swooped the daggers out in a half circle around her, starting out in front of her and then sweeping off to the sides. " Three..." she counted quietly, "... two..." her arms were stretched out as far as they would comfortably go on either side of her, "... one." The girl's eyes snapped open, the blood-red irises almost glowing in the dim light. In one fluid motion she flicked her wrists and tossed the sai up and caught them so that she could hold them in a different position, stood, and spun around to face the obstacle course. Her arms were held so that they made an 'X' across the front of her body. Then she began to move into the course, whipping and spinning the sai around as she did, making the blades sings as they whipped through the air. Her face held no emotion except for maybe concentration.

The first thing to come at her was one of the sandbags. It fell down from the ceiling at her left and swung to hit her in the shoulder but quick as a flash she tore one of the daggers through it, ripping out the bottom so that all the white sand spilled out into a pile beneath it on the floor. There was a dummy after that, made out of canvas and insulation, and the girl stabbed through its "heart" and then quickly slit open its "throat". Normandy spun away from the "dead" lump, moved towards another dummy, and quickly moved into a powerful kick. " Hrah!" Her foot meet with the "head" of the dummy, knocking it clean off and sending it flying to a corner of the room. The dummy spun and fell to the floor and the teen hurried away towards the next obstacle. Two more sandbags dropped down on either side of her, and, without even looking, she sliced the bottoms of them out. Then she ran forward towards a challenge that consisted of parallel bars, pummel horse, and balance beam all in successive order.

Normandy reached back and quickly sheathed the sai into their special holder beneath her shirt. " Hup!" Leaping up, the girl seized hold of the lower bar, spun up and over until she was perching on it and then quickly leaped to grab the other one. She spun around that once... twice... three times, before finally releasing and rolling into a forward flip in the air. The assassin came down on her hands on the pummel horse, lowered her weight, and then pushed back up into another flip. Landing perfectly and sturdily upon the balance beam, the child unsheathed her katana and slashed through four more sandbags in the blink of an eye. Then she back-flipped off the beam and landed between two more dummies. She stabbed the first one through the "back" and then whipped around and sliced the next one in half, the slash running from left " shoulder" to right "hip". There was one more dummy behind that one and she ran forward, leaped into the air, and kicked out a leg at it. " Hi-yah!" The dummy went flying back against the wall.

Panting heavily, and sweating even more now, Normandy expertly sheathed her katana. Then the very last part of the obstacle occurred. A single sandbag, bearing a portrait of Lara Goodman with a small black 'X' drawn on her forehead to mark the kill point, swung down. Instinctively, the teenager reached down to the holster at her hip, yanked her throwing knife out, and chucked it at the sandbag. " Rraahh!" The knife whistled through the air before embedding itself in the sandbag at the small 'X'. Perfect throw. A smirk played at Normandy's lips and she chuckled as an evil gleam came to her eyes. " Bullseye."

Suddenly a door banged opened, and the girl whipped around, katana once again out and ready. She looked towards the doors of the gym to see her uncle standing there, looking at her with a serious and grim expression: his game face. Normandy sheathed the katana again. " Glen?" she questioned. She already knew what was happening, but she just wanted to be positive.

The man nodded somberly. " It's time," he said, voice low and grave. " Suit up and let's go." He turned away and disappeared down the hall.

Sighing, Normandy looked back at the sandbag and picture with the knife sticking through it. Striding towards the bad, she ripped the knife out of it, stroking it downward to that the bag tore open, and the picture with it. Then she sheathed the knife back in it's holster. " You better be ready for a fight, Lara," she whispered. " 'Cuz this time, your blood is mine."

* * *

FLAG Headquarters;

Even as KITT sat in the coolness of his hangar, he was busy at working, tapping into the security cameras of the large meeting hall in the Knight Mansion and watching as the many workers of FLAG hustled and bustled around to prepare things for that night's retirement banquet for Michael. He took particular interest in a spot of the room, that was located near the table of honor, that looked like it was being reinforced and situated to accommodate a car. That didn't surprise him, not that he was conceited for anything like that. It only made sense that he would be at the banquet as well, even though he wouldn't be participating in the meal, of course. He was had been Michael's partner after all. The AI felt excited, almost giddy, and the prospects of what tonight would hold. Michael would be honored and served a medal for his work in the field, and he would as well. They would both be honored, though Michael would own more of the spotlight since it was his retirement party, but KITT didn't mind that. He wasn't ready to be decommission yet. Still, it was exciting to be included in something that was usually meant for humans alone.

But then there was also a part of the AI that wasn't quite so happy. He still couldn't quite get over the fact that he, in effect, no longer possessed a partner. The fact had been eating at him since Mike had announced that he no longer planned on inheriting his father's position as the Knight Rider.

KITT couldn't help but wonder and worry. " What is to happen to me?" he voiced the question aloud, even though no one was around to answer him. The AI had never been so confused in his life. He couldn't decide on what to be. Part of him was angry with Michael for retiring, but then he told himself that such a feeling was pointless because it wasn't Michael's fault and he really had no choice in the matter. Besides, he was human, and human aged and lost their effectiveness over a period of time. And KITT couldn't deny seeing the toll the job had taken on his friend over the years. He could see the slight limps in Michael's steps and the twinges in his movements, repercussions from the injuries he had endured on the jobs. Michael was slower now too—physically anyway. His mental capacity was still working well, but that didn't do him much good if he was stoved-up everywhere else.

Then there was another part of KITT that was angry at Mike, but even then, he knew that that was senseless as well. Mike was a young man in love with a young woman—whom KITT rather liked himself—that was in love with him as well. They had their whole lives ahead of them that could be filled with peaceful, happy memories, and the AI couldn't hold that against them. He knew how precious those kinds of memories could be.

And then, of course, there was the ever worried part of the AI that thought on the aspect of getting a new partner. " _I don't even know who would be qualified enough to even come close to FLAG standards_," the Trans Am thought. FLAG standards for the Knight Rider and become far more strenuous since Samantha—niece of Devon Miles—had taken over her late uncle's position as head director of FLAG. Mike himself had just barely met the criteria, and even then he'd had to train for about a year-and-a-half to finally be chosen as the new Knight Rider. KITT wasn't exactly sure how soon he and his new partner (if he got one) would have to get back out in the field, but he guessed that it would have to be fairly soon. So it would have to be somebody who already had training in weaponry and martial arts, as well as possessing a fit body and mind.

Sighing heavily, the AI decided to power-down for a while and recharge his power-packs, as well as his microprocessor. Maybe he'd dream up a solution... figuratively speaking of course. AI's don't dream. Powering down for his catnap, KITT did one thing he never thought he'd find himself doing. He prayed. " Please," he nearly whispered, " if there truly is an infinite, holy deity out there, hear me. Please show me what path I am to take." He was silent for a minute as he thought, and then he added, " In fact, it would be rather considerate and helpful if you could just send a new partner my way."


	4. Merging Destinies

**Unfortunately, I do not own Knight Rider. **

* * *

" It'll take a lot more than words and guns. A whole lot more than riches and muscle. The hands of the many must join as one... and together we'll cross the river..." Puscifer; _The Humbling River_

3

Merging Destinies

FLAG Headquarters;

Michael Knight Sr. stood in front of the mirror, adjusting and readjusting his black tie. His mind wandered. It was actually happening; he was actually retiring. He just couldn't believe. Never in his life had he ever thought this day would come. Of course, he'd always known that he wouldn't be able to be the Knight Rider forever and, in a way, he was relieved to be retiring. But a part of him still felt as though it was just too soon. He still craved the thrill of the fight. He'd gotten hooked on that adrenaline rush that he felt every time he went undercover or finally cornered the bad guy after a long process of flushing them out. Now all that was over. After tonight, he wasn't going to be the Knight Rider anymore. He wasn't going to be KITT's partner anymore. That was the part that worried him the most—not completely knowing what would happen to his best friend and partner. No one had told him anything about what would happen to KITT after her retired. As far as he knew, no one was sure what was going to happen to the AI, period. Yes, they all knew that Mike was in line to become the next Knight Rider, but there were still a lot of variables in there to be considered.

For one thing, the test results from Mike's last physical hadn't come back yet. For another, it was no secret that Mike and Sarah Graiman were deeply in love—as they should be. They'd only being seeing each other for about three and a half years. Everyone was beginning to wonder when they would finally tie the knot.

And that was the other thing. Marriage, in this business, had a habit of never quite working out. Michael had found that out the hard way. Yes, he and Bonny had stayed together, but it had taken a lot of hard work and dedication on both their parts to keep their marriage intact, and,, for it, their bond had grown stronger and deeper (that would explain why they had six children). But this was a new age. Nearly half of all marriages ended in divorce, and nobody wanted to see that happen with Mike and Sarah—Michael especially.

" Having some trouble there?" I warm, loving voice interrupted the man's thoughts.

Pausing in the knotting of his tie, Michael looked into the corner of the mirror. A wide grin parted his lips. He turned around to face his beautifully gorgeous wife who was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His eyes ran over her body.

Even in her later years and after bearing six children into this world, Bonnie had managed to keep her trim, curvacious figure; and even if it wasn't quite as firm and toned as it had once been, she was still a vision of loveliness. Right now, she was wearing a long black dress with a v-neck halter-top, a scarlet knit shrug on her shoulders, and black open-toed shoes with slight heels. Her face was perfectly make-uped and her wavy, graying brown-blonde hair styled in just the right way so that it swooped down over her left shoulder. The dress was rather modest and simple, as was her whole attire, but in Michael's eyes, it all made his wife look like the sexiest and most stunning woman on the planet. Of course she always looked like that in his eyes, but the outfit just made it stick out all the more. The man smiled appreciatively.

Noticing his grin, Bonnie smirked at him. " Like what you see?" she questioned, smoothly, using the voice that she knew Michael loved.

Michael nodded in confirmation as he responded, " You're a vision. You oughta wear dresses more often."

His wife chuckled. " Maybe I will now that you're retired." She pushed off from the door frame and strutted towards him. " Every time I wore them before they always seemed like..." she had reached her husband now and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself close, "... too much a distraction for you."

The man wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer—almost flush against his body. He grinned lovingly down at his woman. " But a good distraction," he pointed out, lowering his head inch by inch.

Their noses brushed and then their lips were upon each other. The couple shared a long, sweet, passionate kiss that clearly exhibited all their love and desire for each—even after all these years and near divorce—within it. Finally they had to pull apart for breath. Even so, they kept their forehead pressed against each others and kept their eyes locked together.

Giggling, Bonnie ran a hand up into her man's burly hair that was starting to gray and thin out. She tangled her fingers in it a gave it a slight tug. " I love you," she breathed the cherished words.

Michael's smile became even warmer—if that was possible. " And I love you," he returned, voice soft and sincere. He bent down to share another kiss with her.

When they pulled apart again, Bonnie turned her attention to the knotted tie at her husband's throat. " Here," she offered, hands falling to it, " let me do that." With quick, deft fingers, she made quick work of the tangle of fabric and soon enough, she was make a perfect, neat Windsor out of it.

Michael sighed and held his hands out to the side in a 'hopeless' position. " Why do I always try to tie it myself?" he asked with another grin. " You're so much better and faster at it!"

Bonnie smiled and laughed. " That's because I've had so much practice over the years." When she was finished with the tie, she placed a kiss on Michael's cheek. " There. Now you're ready."

" Thanks, honey." Michael turned back to the mirror and began to straighten the rest of his suit.

Bonnie retreated over to take a seat on their bed. She sat there in silence, watching as her husband finished dressing, running her eyes over his body. He looked amazing in a suit. After a moment she broke the silence by asking, " So, you ready for retirement?"

Michael released a long sigh and looked over his shoulder at her with a slight smirk. " You just had to ask," he murmured.

Bonnie smiled and shrugged. " I was just wondering. I mean, you've been the Knight Rider for a long time Michael. You had the position nearly a year before I even came into the picture as KITT's technician."

" Yes, and what a long, torturous year that was without you there too," Michael chuckled.

" Michael, I'm serious."

" So am I."

Bonnie then stood and advanced towards her man once again. She put her hands atop his shoulder and rested her chin on them, looking into the mirror and meeting her husband's eyes once more. " Are you going to miss it?"

Michael stared into her eyes for a long time, silent. Then he turned his head and planted a kiss in her hair. " Yes," he whispered, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her close. " I won't lie to you, Bonnie, I am gonna miss it. I'm gonna miss the thrills and the chills of the job. I'm gonna miss workin' with KITT. Oh, he's not always the easiest partner to get along with... but he was my partner, and he is my friend—the best one a guy could ask for." He sighed again, still staring into his wife's eyes through the mirror. " I'm worried about him, Bonnie," he finally confessed. " I'm worried about KITT."

His wife looked away from the mirror up to him in sheer confusion. " Why?" she inquired.

Michael nodded. " I wish I knew," he answered. " I just... I gotta bad feeling about all of this."

" Michael, Mike's going to become KITT's new partner."

" Is he, Bonnie? That's the question."

Bonnie opened her mouth to protest but then decided against it. She knew what her husband was getting at and he knew he was right to worry. She was worried too. Just like Michael and everybody else, she could see how much Mike and Sarah cared for each other—so much so that they would more than likely be married soon. And also like her husband, she knew all-too-well how hard marriage in this business was. She knew the reasonable doubt where Mike as the new Knight Rider was concerned.

Yes, Mike had always talked about wanting to take over his father's position... but that had been years ago when he was younger and not in love. If Mike didn't want to become the new Knight Rider and wanted to marry Sarah instead, Bonnie wouldn't hold it against him. But still, that left poor KITT out in the cold—without a partner.

" It's gonna be okay, my love," she tried to reassure her husband. " Everything's going to be okay."

Michael sighed and hugged Bonnie even closer. " I hope you're right, babe," he sighed. " I hope you're right."

* * *

Southern California Dark Facility;

Normandy lay silent on the ground on top of the hill, looking down into the valley below. She was completely shielded from sight by the foliage and rocks and her leather-bound, athletically designed bodysuit kept her warm in the cool night air. Her katana was sheathed at her back, her sais in the special ribbing of her suit, her dagger in her hip holster, and her handgun in a holster at her other hip. With her sharp eyes piercing through the darkness, she watched the silent compound below her. Every muscle in her body was ready to spring the moment she had to move. She was ready to end all of this.

Suddenly the comm-link in her ear went off and beeped once: Glen's signal that everything was ready. Lifting a hand, the teenager pressed the transmit on her button twice in quick succession, letting him know that she got the message. Then the girl stood and leaped over the embankment and hastened towards the compound. A few minutes later she was leaping over the tall fence, landing unnoticed on the other side, and sprinting for the door she and her uncle had planned to meet at. Once she reached it, she quickly took out the watchman that was standing guard beside it by snapping his neck, and then she pressed herself against the wall. She reached to her comm-link and quickly transmitted twice once again. Seconds later the door was opening and Glen appeared. " I thought the signal meant you took out _**all **_the guards," Normandy hissed, motioning to the dead guard by tapping him in the ribs with the toe of her boot.

Glen just looked at the body through the goggles of his helmet. " Hmm," he hummed after a moment. " He must've come here after I got in."

His niece rolled her eyes and hurried in through the door. " So, where exactly is she?" she whispered, cautiously looking around. Rule number one of being an assassin: always be aware.

" In a meeting," Glen answered, " at the very center of the compound. The room's heavily guarded—that's why there were so few guards to go through to get in here."

" How many?"

" Oh, 'bout a hundred I'd say; a squad's posted at every door. So going through the door isn't an option."

" It never was."

" So how to you plan to get inside?"

Normandy looked up at her uncle with a devilish smirk. " Who ever said anything about going inside?" she questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

Glen gave her a cautious look. " What are you talkin' about?" he ventured the question, his voice uneasy.

Normandy's smirk grew bigger.

" Norm, what are you planning?"

Reaching back into a compartment of her utility belt, the gold and silver-streaked haired girl pulled out a small disc-bomb.

Glen looked from the bomb back up to Normandy's face, meeting her eyes yet again. He shook his head and gave her a look. " You wouldn't dare..."

The girl's smirk only became more pronounced. " Oh, wouldn't I?"

* * *

FLAG Headquarters;

KITT sat up on the small, reinforced pedestal that had been rigged up for him in the meeting hall. He remained silent as he scanned the room, watching as the nearly two hundred people partook in the banquet feast and chatted. Some of the conversations were about important matters; others were just small talk or people catching up. Despite all of the activity, however, KITT still couldn't take his microprocessor of the thought that had been plaguing him for the past day and a half. _**He had no partner**_. The AI dreaded the speech Mike would give—hearing the news once had been sufficiently bad enough; a second announcement would only rub it in and make it sting worse.

" Hey, buddy," the sudden voice startled the Trans Am out of his thoughts.

KITT turned his scanners and attention towards the man who was now standing beside him—his old partner and friend: Michael Knight. " Hello, Michael," he greeted back, trying to sound chipper, though he didn't quite pull it off.

Michael frowned. Was it just him, or did KITT sound distracted and even a bit blue. Two things that KITT was most certainly not. " What's the matter, pal?" the man questioned, laying a hand on the car's hood. " You sound like you got somethin' on your mind?"

KITT did have something on his mind—it was true—but he didn't wish to worry his friend with the burden. So he lied instead. " Nothing is wrong, Michael," he fibbed, still not quite managing the chipper tone. " I'm fine—I'm just... taking in the scene. I still find human behavior to be quite fascinating at times."

Michael bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn't quite convinced that everything was all right with his old partner, but he knew that he'd never get anything out of the AI if KITT didn't want him to, so he decided to leave it and play along. " I hate to tell ya, buddy," he chuckled with a grin, " but, no doesn't matter how long you're online, I don't think you'll ever completely understand us humans." The man smirked. " We're a little bit too superior for your microprocessor."

" On the contrary," KITT snapped back drily, " I believe the reason I may not be able to understand your species is due to the fact that you're all just too _**simple**_ for my microprocessor."

Michael laughed. Yep, that was the KITT he knew! He patted the black Trans Am's hood. " Whatever you say, pal," he chuckled. " Whatever you say."

* * *

Southern California Dark Facility;

Normandy crept down a hall in the direction of the center of the base and Lara Goodman. As always, she was quiet and kept to the shadows. Half of her consciousness she kept on her surroundings, making sure that she was totally alone and that if she did come upon someone she'd be ready. The other half of her mind was going over her plan. The thirteen-year-old had to admit that her idea to sneak into the ventilation shafts in the ceiling of the room and set off bombs to bring the entire roof of the base down atop all of them was rather risky for her and did lack a certain finesse that she had become known for all over the world. But it was better than being shot down by a hundred guards to get through the doors and probably a hundred more once she got past the doors. And besides, she was just wanted to get all of this over with. Who cared if she was killed in the process? She didn't. In fact, as far as the young super-soldier was concerned, if she got caught in the blast and died it would probably be better than living out the rest of her life as a monstrosity.

The girl was so busy thinking all this over that she forgot to keep part of her mind on her surroundings, so she didn't notice the two masked, black-clad men carrying high-powered electrical prods sneaking up on her. That is, she didn't notice them until one of them had buried the business end of one of the sparking devices into her back. " Aaaahhhh!" Normandy screamed and them slumped to the floor with a groan, smoking rising up from the contact point between her shoulder-blades. " Uhh..." The teen was only about half-coherent. She'd forgotten just how much a punch those prods could deliver. Damn! Hearing crackling behind her, the assassin looked back up over her shoulder to see one of the men standing over her, prod raised high over his head and ready to plunge into her backside again. Adrenaline surged into her blood-stream, burning of the daze. " Hu-uh!" She launched herself out of the way just in time, causing the man to sink the prod into the floor. The other came after her and she rolled into a backwards somersault before moving into a couple of back-handsprings and landing on her feet. With a snarl, she slid into a ready position. " Let's dance then, fellas. Hrah!" Lunging forward, the thirteen-year-old planted a hard fist into on of the men's faces, causing him to stumble backward, then quickly spun around and delivered a roundhouse kick at her second opponent. "Yah!"

He crashed into the wall and dropped to the floor, unconscious. The first man shook off his daze and came back at the girl, prod ready. " Huh!" He leaped forward, expecting to make the prongs meet her body, but the teenager slid off to the side out of the way.

With the dangerous end of the prod shoved past her, Normandy grabbed the shaft of the weapon and jerk it up in the air, carrying its handler over with it. She threw him down the hall, relieving him of the electrical prod in the process. Hearing shuffling behind her, the red-eyed girl whipped around, spinning the prod so that it was business-end-up in the process, and jammed it into the lower torso of the guard who had now come to.

" Aaaahhhh!" The man cried out in pain and then stumbled back again, smoke rising from a nasty burn on his abdomen.

Normandy smirked, when suddenly another sharp, shocking pain ripped through her. " Gaahh!" She whipped around to see that the man she'd relieved of the prod was now in possession of a tazer. Granted, it wasn't half as powerful as the electrical prod, but it still hurt like hell. Growling, the girl gripped the prod she held like it was a baseball bat and swung it at her opponent.

The sparking metal prods made contact with his cheek, and the man flew backwards. When he hit the floor again, there was a burn mark across the right side of his face. It wouldn't pain him though. He was dead; his neck had been snapped with the force of the swing.

Huffing, Normandy threw the prod off to the side. " I've had just about enough of this," she rumbled, staring at the dead man. Her ears pricked to more scuffling and crackling behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. The man she'd burned was coming at her again. With another growl, the teen slowly turned around, pulling her gun out of the holster as she did, and then—_**BANG! **_

The man dropped dead in his tracks, a bloody bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

" Like I said," Normandy murmured, voice soft but emotionless, " I've had enough of this." She put her gun back on safety and stuck it back in the holster.

That's when the alarms started blaring.

" Damn it!" Normandy whispered. Quickly wheeling around she sprinted back the way she came down the hall. So much for this mission. Time to grab her uncle and get out while they still could—she'd take Goodman out another day. The teenaged assassin was almost at the end of the hall when suddenly a large metal door slammed down in the opening and locked, blocking her escape. With a gasp, the thirteen-year-old skidded to a stop and cursed under her breath. Trapped! Her ears pricked at the sound of hundreds of running footsteps and she turned to gaze down at the other end of the long hallway. An entire squad of Dark soldiers was already there, guns prepped and ready, the red marker-lights peppering her body. Normandy stood stock-still, face an emotionless mask. For a long moment she simply stared at the guards, noiselessly studying them, carefully calculating every detail and outcome.

The guards in turn waited, fingers at the ready on the trigger.

Then it began.

In the blink of an eye, Normandy had drawn out her gun once more and had fired it.

One of the crouching guards in the first row of the human wall dropped to the floor, screaming in pain, clutching at his knee, which had been blown apart by the bullet. All of the other guards' eyes darted to him. Their eyes had only been taken off the teen for a second, but that was enough to make it a fatal mistake.

Normandy sprinted forward, her super-human speed kicking in. She slightly jumped up, placed her foot atop the helmet of a squatting, unsuspecting guard, and launched herself into the air above the men. " Huh!" Unsheathing her katana, the teen lopped off the heads of half-a-dozen soldiers as she fell back to the floor. Hitting the floor, she rolled into a tuck and roll to get to her feet. Whipping around, she sliced down another six soldiers before they could re-aim and fire their guns, and then she began ducking, dodging, diving, and weaving as the remainder of the Dark lackeys began to shoot at her. Spinning out of the way one direction, the girl caused some of the soldiers to shoot their partners by mistake. When she spun the other way, she caused it to happen again. Then she pulled out her gun against and began to shoot and slash in sequence, taking out soldier after soldier. By the time the entire squad was killed, she was barely breaking a sweat.

Face still cold and distant, Normandy spun her katana and then expertly slid it back into the sheath at her back. She was getting ready to replace her gun in the holster when she heard weak groaning and grunting. The girl turned. It was the first soldier she'd shot—the one she'd blown the knee out of. He was pale and loosing lots of blood; he wasn't going to last long. Normandy decided to take him out his misery once and for all. Cocking her gun, the super-soldier stalked in his direction, put her combat boot in his chest to hold him down, and pointed the gun between his eyes. " Any last words?" she asked, voice icy.

" Why..." he forced out after a moment, brown eyes full of pain looking up into hers, "... are you..." he sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, "... doing this?"

A slight flicker of uncertainty flashed through the child assassin's face. She lowered the gun to point at the floor. Why was she truly doing this? To avenge her parents? To make sure what happened to her never happened to anyone else? To settle a score? She could only decide on one answer—the same one she'd been saying to herself ever since she began her life of assassinating. " Because I hate Dark," she responded simply.

" Why?"

" Because they turned me into a monster, and... they took my family from me."

" And will this turn you back to normal? Will this bring back your loved ones?" The question were deep and demanding.

For a long time, Normandy was silent as she gazed down into the soldier's eyes. Her face was still void of emotion. Finally, she lifted the gun again, placed it between this eyes, and fired. The shot rang out through the silent halls and the golden bullet case clinked against the floor. " No," she answered.

* * *

FLAG Headquarters;

From his space in the corner of the meeting room by the honor table, KITT watched as Mike made his way to the podium to give his speech for the night... and to break the news. If the AI had possessed human anatomy, he would've been sick to his stomach.

Mike reached the stand and began to adjust the mic. Once it was adjusted he spoke into it. " Hello," he greeted everyone in the room, " and welcome everyone. I can't tell you how much it means for all of us—especially my father—that you're all hear to celebrate his years of service to our country. A round of applause for Michael Knight, everyone!"

A roaring applause sounded up in the room.

From his seat, Michael ever-so-slightly blushed.

Being the only one who could see it, Bonnie smiled and hugged and kissed her husband.

Mike went on. " Now, as you all know," he began, " my father is retiring from the field, and will no longer be the Knight Rider of the FLAG program." He stopped and swallowed hard. Suddenly feeling a bit hot, the young man nervously adjusted his tie and collar, trying to find some relief. " Um..." he stammered after a minute, "... because of this fact, tonight was also meant to be a ceremony where my father would pass off the torch to the next Knight Rider. You all know that to be me." He felt even hotter—his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. " But... um... the truth is..." Mike's eyes drifted over to those of his father and mother, "... I... uh... I don't know who's going to be the new Knight Rider."

There were a few murmurs of confusion from the audience.

Michael and Bonnie exchanged quizzical looks before looking back at their son.

Mike's young brother and sisters all looked at each other in confusion, and Debra and Sarah exchanged a knowing but worried glance before looking back at Mike.

" But," Mike continued, " whoever it is... it's not going to be me."

There were gasps and cries of shock from the audience. People turned to each other, asking their neighbors if they'd heard that right.

Bonnie and Michael stared at their son, speechless.

Sarah then stood, strode to the podium, and linked an arm through that of her fiance's. She gazed into his eyes for a moment before looking out at the crowd. " The reason Mike has decided to decline the position," she explained, " is because we are engaged to be married. We're sorry for the inconvenience and the shock... but things like these tend to function on their own." With that said, the two lovers retreated from the stand and sat back down.

" Well..." Mike whispered, sweat pouring down his face, "... that's over."

* * *

Southern California Dark Facility;

" Normandy!" Glen shouted over the alarms as he saw his niece sprinting in his direction. " Norm, what'd you do?!"

" I'll explain it later," Normandy panted, skidding to a stop beside him. She waited a minute or two to catch her breath, and then she grabbed her uncle's arm and began to tug him toward the exit. " Come on!" she urged him. " We gotta get outta here before-ugh!" Something sharp suddenly jammed into the side of the thirteen-year-old's neck with such force that it made her stumble. " Ah!" The girl reached a hand up and jerked the spike out of her flesh, then proceeded to examine it. It was a dart—a tranquilizer dart! And it was already beginning to take affect. Still holding the object, Normandy turned towards her worried uncle. " Glen?" she moaned, her eyelids becoming heavier by the second. She took a few staggering steps in no particular direction, and put a hand to her head as she shook it to try and clear her thoughts. She couldn't recall Dark tranquilizer ever being this potent. " Glen, I..." she groaned, "... I-I don't feel so good. Whoa..." The child's legs gave out and she collapsed to a heap on the floor. She tried to rise again, just she couldn't find the strength. Everything began to go blurry and unfocused. Normandy tried to searched for her uncle in the fog. " Glen?" she called out, voice weak. " Uncle?"

Her uncle's voice came back to her. " It's gonna be okay, Norm," his voice sounded calm and reassuring. " It's all gonna be okay."

Normandy slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

FLAG Headquarters;

" I cannot believe this!" Samantha Miles, niece of Devon Miles and director of FLAG, raged as she paced back and forth in front of Mike and Sarah. It was about half an hour after Mike and Sarah's announcement, and she had pulled them off to the side in order to have a "civilized discussion" with them. So far the discussion hadn't been so "civilized", since the thirty-eight-year-old had been yelling at them basically the whole time, and it hadn't been much of a discussion either. Samantha had done the talking; the couple couldn't get a word in edge-wise. " You're not going to be the new Knight Rider! You were this close—this close!—to taking over your father's position, and now you don't want it!" The blonde-haired, brown-eyed woman turned to glare at the young man. " You didn't think to inform the board about this?"

" I hadn't officially decided on it until yesterday," Mike explained calmly. In all honesty, he was quite afraid of the British woman. She was rather intense and quick-tempered, especially when areas concerning the Knight Rider field of program were concerned.

" But you didn't even tell us you were even thinking about not becoming the Knight Rider!"

" We didn't want to tell you until he was sure, Samantha," Sarah spoke up. " We all know how you like things to be certain."

" That still doesn't account for the fact of the position that you have put us in," the older woman pointed out, fists on her hips. " Thanks to you two, FLAG is now currently without a Knight Rider, and KITT is currently without a partner. I can only imagine the shock he must be going through at this point."

" He already knew," Mike mumbled, not really wanting to be heard.

" What?" Samantha demanded.

" KITT already knew my decision," Mike repeated, louder this time. " I told him yesterday—him and Debra. They were both in the know."

Samantha stared at him in disbelief, shaking her head ever-so-slightly. " What, is the whole family in mutiny now?"

Suddenly, the door to the private room that they were in opened and Michael and Bonnie stepped through. Bonnie was grinning a mile wide. " Congratulations!" she chirped, holding her arms out to the young couple. She embraced them both. " Oh, I'm so happy for the two of you!" She released her sun, kissed his cheek, and then turned to Sarah. " Now you have to tell me about whatever you have planned so far," she insisted, sitting the young woman down on the sofa again.

Mike stared at his mother in disbelief. What was going on? He'd assumed his parents would be stark-raving mad once he'd spilled the news. Like Samantha! The young man turned back to his father, who was grinning at him. " Dad..." he got out before he was wrapped in a hug from his father.

" Congratulations, son!" Michael laughed jovially, patting his son's back. He pulled back and took Mike's hand up into a hand-shake. " I was beginning to wonder when you'd put a ring on her finger." And Michael was truly happy for his son, and he was happy for gaining a daughter-in-law as well, especially when said daughter-in-law was as nice of a girl as Sarah. But still, in the back of his mind he couldn't but worry. After all, if he was retired and Mike wasn't the Knight Rider, what was to happen to KITT?

* * *

Southern California Dark Facility;

When Normandy finally came to, she still didn't feel quite right. In fact she felt worse now than she had when the tranquilizer first began to kick in. Then, she'd just been groggy and slow. Now, she felt groggy, slow, and just plain sick. Her head throbbed, the injection site where the dart had punctured her burned and itched like no other, he throat felt raw and tight, her stomach felt queasy, and all her muscles just felt like mush under her skin. Besides all that, her ears were ringing, her vision was still in and out of focus, and her strength was sapped. Overall, she felt like crap. " Mmm..." the girl groaned, closing her eyes against the bright light because it only made her head ache worse. " I don't ever remember the tranquilizer having this effect on me before."

" That's because it wasn't just tranquilizer, darling," a heavily-Brazilian accented woman's voice came to her ears.

Normandy snarled, immediately recognizing the voice. " Lara," she rasped, hate poisonous in her voice. Suddenly two men grabbed her arms and harshly jerked her up, making her body ache worse and the world around her to spin. " Ugh! Uhm..." Normandy slumped limp in their grips. With heavy-lidded red eyes, the thirteen-year-old slowly lifted her head up and tried to focus in on the tall woman standing before her.

Lara Goodman was a Brazilian woman of about forty, but, thanks to age altering experiments done by Dark, she looked like she was in her early twenties. She was gorgeous, with thick, long, wavy, ebony black hair that swooped all the way to the small over black, cascading over her shoulders like a silky, black waterfall, and shrouding the left half of her face—effectively hiding a large, ugly looking scar that Normandy had put there herself. She had flawless, light-brown skin, with only a small beauty-mark on her right cheek. Her figure was the most perfect epitome of the 'hourglass' figure. When she smiled, she bared pearly white teeth her almond shaped eyes were dark—almost black—brown and long lashed. As of now, she was dressed in her classic color scheme and dress-code: high-heeled, thigh-high black boots over fishnet stockings, and a black and dark red trench coat. Her lipstick was blood-red, and her eyeshadow was done in the 'smokey-eye' style. To top it all of, she wore black, fashionable gloves.

Normandy bared her teeth. " Lara," she growled weakly. She began to move as if to rise to her feet, but in the end she was just too weak and hung limp again, her head lolling forward. Groaning she shook her head, trying to clear her blurry vision. Suddenly her stomach rolled and she gagged, though she didn't cough anything up. " Wha-what'd you... do to me?" she rasped before gagging again.

" We injected you with a new strain of poison our labs have just perfected," Goodman stated, sauntering forward. " To bio-enhanced beings such as you, darling, if the poison were to be given to you in its pure form, it would be no more deadly to you than poison ivy is to normal humans. But, when it's mixed with tranquilizer, it becomes very deadly." Lara was in front of the girl now, and she knelt down and slipped a hand beneath Normandy's chin. She lifted her head up and sneered at her. " It would kill normal humans within a matter of minutes, but with you, it will be agonizingly slow—taking days." Then she released the child and walked away again towards a large metal table, hands folded behind her back. " However, because I am merciful..."

Normandy snorted at that.

"... I will end your suffering now, darling." The Brazilian turned back around to face the thirteen-year-old, a pistol—Normandy's own pistol (the rest of her arsenal lay upon the table as well)!—in her hand, another evil grin parting her lips. " But not before I take what remains of your family away from you."

Normandy's red eyes widened. " No..." she croaked.

Lara turned her head and ordered, " Bring him in."

A door banged open and two more soldiers came marching into the room, dragging a shackled and blindfolded Glen between them. They stopped about six feet in front of Normandy and directly across from her, and then they yanked the dark bag off of the man's head.

Once the bag was removed, Glen jumped and looked around, eyes wide and wild with terror. He panted heavily and quickly with dear. A gag was over his mouth. Finally his green-gray eyes finally came to rest on Normandy and he slightly struggled and tried to get to her. " Nmhmhmy?"

Tears came to the child's eyes and she slowly shook her head. " Glen..." she choked. She turned to Lara again. " You can't do this," she stated. " I'm the one you want; let him go."

Goodman readied the gun and took a step towards the man. " You're right," she conceded, back to the girl. " It _**is**_ you that I want." The woman looked over her shoulder at Normandy. " But you see, just as your parents, your uncle is of great importance to you, and that, darling, is just as dangerous to me as if you were alive." With that said, she turned towards Glen, raised the gun, and pulled the trigger.

Glen dropped to the floor, his skull blown to smithereens.

Normandy stared in horror at the lifeless, disfigured body of her uncle, tears flowing, unnoticed, down her cheeks. She watched as the river of his blood flowed from his exploded head towards her and pooled around her knees. Her tears dripped into it. Slowly her head began to shake. " No," she whispered.

Lara readied the gun again and came striding in the teen's direction.

" No," Normandy repeated, a little louder this time.

Goodman stopped in front of her and began to raise the gun to take aim once again.

" No!" Normandy screamed. Adrenaline and rage surged into her system, wiping out the effects of the poison and granting her strength. She lunged to her right and took out the legs of that guard, causing him to fall, then she did the same to the man on her left. Then she leaped to her feet. Kicking a foot up she knocked the gun away from Lara and then spun around and barreled, heading straight for the window.

Lara jumped after the gun and retrieved it. Whipping around with a growl she began to fire blindly at the girl, desperate to bring her down.

A burning pain went through Normandy as a bullet ripped through her shoulder and another through her right thigh. One lodged into her abdomen. The pain was unbearable, but the teenager gritted her teeth and pushed through it. She was not going to die today, not while she had Glen to avenge now. She kept for the exit. Before she could think, she was shielding her face against the glass with her arms and launching herself through the window. All too late, she realized that they'd been on the Dark blimp, thousands of feet in the air, and she was free-falling to the earth.

* * *

FLAG Headquarters;

It was after the banquet, and KITT was back in his original spot in the main garage. Despite how late it was, the AI had not yet powered down for the night to recharge his power-packs. On the contrary, he was wide awake, thinking once again over what was going to happen to him. Samantha had assured him that they would find him another partner, but KITT wasn't so sure. He knew just how peculiar and and picky the British woman could be about these matters, and, if she did happen to decide that someone was qualified to be the Knight Rider, it most certainly was not going to be right away. Maybe within the next decade, but not right away. KITT sighed.

Suddenly the sound of a door quietly opening and closing drew his attention. Turning his attention up to the stairs, KITT was surprised to see who his late night visitor was. " Michael," he said, sounding a bit shocked, " what are you doing here at this time of night? I'd assumed that you'd be asleep."

" I'd've thought the same about you," his ex-partner and old friend replied with a smirk. " I couldn't sleep. To much on the brain."

" The situation is mutual," KITT responded.

Sighing, Michael rested a hand on the Trans Am's hood and rubbed it affectionately. " What's say we go for a drive, huh?"

* * *

The two old partners drove on through the night, KITT steering the car as Michael sat back and relaxed, watching the scenery go by. Neither of them spoke, and they enjoyed the quiet. It was a melancholy atmosphere for, though they had always enjoyed their drives together and this one brought back so many memories, they both realized that this could very well be the last time that they would ever go driving together.

Releasing a sigh, Michael turned to look down at the dash. " I'm gonna miss our drives, buddy," he confessed, finally breaking the silence.

" As am I," the AI returned, his triple-bar voice modulator flashing scarlet in the darkness.

There was silence again for a long time before Michael finally ventured the question. " KITT, are you... mad a Mike for not taking the position?"

" Not at all," KITT answered sincerely. " I mean, I was for a little while, but I cannot hold his wanting to be married against him. I was more surprised than anything once I got the announcement."

Michael snorted. " Yeah, tell me about it," he chuckled. " Although, in hindsight, I shoulda seen it coming. I am happy for them, though."

" As am I," his partner agreed.

The man looked from the flashing red bars back up the road. He was just beginning to doze off when suddenly he saw something move in the woods off to the side of the road.

As if to confirm his suspicions, KITT suddenly spoke up. " Michael, I'm detecting signs of life about five yards **[A/N I know KITT typically used the metric system, but I don't understand the metric system so he's not using it in this]** off to the right of us. The life signals are very faint and the subject is a young female... well... according to my scanners, she's nearly human, but not quite human."

Michael raised an eyebrow in suspicion. 'Nearly human, but not quite human'? What the hell did that even mean? His wondering was suddenly cut short as KITT quickly slammed on the brakes as something very human-like come stumbling out onto the road and collapsed right in front of them. Throwing open his door, Michael exited the cab and hurried around to the front of the car. His heart skipped a beat. There, lying crumpled and quivering on the black-top only a couple feet in front of the Trans Am's nose, was a young girl no more than thirteen or fourteen years old. She had long golden hair streaked with silver and silver bangs tipped with gold, and she was dressed in a black, leather body suit. But what the man noticed most was the fact of how pale the child was and how violent her convulsions were.

Quickly kneeling down, Michael gently took the girl into his arms. He flinched when she cried out in obvious pain and that's when he noticed just how bruised and cut up she looked. Laying the girl flat on the road again, the man began to run his fingers over her, examining her for any breaks and fractures—he found several. He also felt something warm and sticky on his fingers. Holding his hands up to the light, Michael was amazed to find blood. He examined the child again. " KITT!" he exclaimed. " KITT, she's been shot!"  
" According to my scans, Michael," the Trans Am said, " she has three gunshot wounds: one to the left shoulder, one to her right thigh, and one to her abdomen. There are still bullets in her thigh and abdomen." KITT was also quite worried at this point. This was just a child! Who in the world would shoot at a child? And something told KITT that gunshot wounds and broken and fractured bones weren't the only thing ailing this girl. With the way she was sweating and convulsing and with the severity of her temperature, there had to be something in her system that was making her sick.

Michael seemed to be thinking along those lines as well, for suddenly he was pulling a Kleenex out of his pocket, wiping some blood off one of the girl's wounds and coming back to KITT's cab. " Here," he said, slipping inside and placing the sample into the analyzer in the glove box, " run a scan on this."

KITT was already running the scan before his ex-partner could even suggest it. A few seconds later he spoke the results. " Michael, there is a highly toxic, unidentifiable toxin within her system. With the toxicity level of this particular serum, I'm astonished that's she still alive. She should be dead, as we speak!"

Out in front, the girl groaned and her body was jarred with a powerful spasm. " Glen," she forced out through clenched teeth. " Glen..."

Michael once again slipped out of the car and went back to the girl. He pulled her up into his arms. " It's okay, sweetie," he crooned soothingly. " It's okay. We're gonna help you."

The child's eyes suddenly opened to half-mast. Michael did a double take and stared in amazement. " Good Lord..." he breathed. " KITT," he quietly exclaimed, " she's got red eyes!"

" I see, Michael," KITT replied, just as amazed. This girl was quite astounding and mysterious.

" It's gonna be okay, kiddo," Michael reiterated. " It's gonna be okay. We got you now."

* * *

Normandy opened her eyes at the sound of a strange voice mumbling in her ear. She was met with the face of man. Normally, if she had been in such a situation, she would've either knocked the guy out or snapped his neck. Of course, in her current status, she wasn't about to do that now. She wasn't even thinking about that. All she could register was the excruciating pain and sickness within her body. All she could think was about... " Glen..." she rasped once more.

" It's gonna be okay, kiddo," the man above her murmured, though she could barely understand what he was saying. " It's gonna be okay. We got you now."

The girl gasped sharply, screwed her eyes shut, and gritted her teeth as another painful convulsion quaked her frame. This was the very definition of living hell! Her head rolled off to the side and she opened her eyes again, and this time, she could herself staring into a beam of scarlet light that whooshed smoothly to and fro from left to right. A soft 'whoosh-whoosh' noise whispered along with the scanner as it moved accordingly. Normandy became fascinated by it, focusing in on it, and, as crazy as if sounds, it almost felt as though that light was looking right into her soul. The world started to spin and everything began to go black. The thirteen-year-old faded out of consciousness, the center of her vision fixed on that swaying scarlet beam.


	5. His Voice

**I know that this is really short, but this is the last of the chapters I had completely planned for this story, and... well, I figured I might as well post something up before I put this story on temp. hiatus for certain reason. Don't worry, I will be coming back to this, just not right away.**

**Anyway, enjoy the bit of fluffiness in this chapter. X3**

**Unfortunately, I do not own Knight Rider. **

* * *

" I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain. I am the voice of your hunger and pain. I am the voice that always is calling you. I am the voice! I am the voice of the past that will always be. I am the voice of your hunger and pain. I am the voice of the future. I am the voice. I am the voice. I am the voice. I am the voice...!" Celtic Woman;_ The Voice_

4

His Voice

It was utter chaos in the infirmary at FLAG headquarters. Doctors and nurses were running every which way, either to grab requested supplies or to take the places of those that got knocked unconscious by the delirious, tortured, deathly sick girl lying on the bed. The noise in the room was louder than thunder as the child screamed out in both pain and horror and as the medics working on her spouted off orders at the tops of their lungs. " We need another person over here!" " Hold her down! Try to strap her arm down!" " We need the anesthesia! Where the hell is it?!" " Damn it! Watch her fists! Watch her fists!" A male nurse went flying away from the bed and hit the wall before slumping to the floor unconscious and possessing a broken jaw.

In the midst of the medics, Normandy lay upon the bed, struggling with all her might against them. She was a mess. Sweat completely drenched her body; it dulled her golden and silver locks and soaked the sheets of the bed beneath her. Foam frothed at her mouth and she kept choking on her saliva. Her red eyes were wide and bloodshot, tears streaming from them, and her entire body quivered and writhed and strained as she fought. She couldn't see the people around her and she could hear nothing but her own heart racing dangerously fast in her ears and her screams. Images of her uncle's lifeless body, his head blown to bits, flashed through her memory and were all she could see and think. " Glen!" she shrieked, fighting against the strange bonds that were holding her. " Glen, no!"

Suddenly Lara Goodman appeared before her. The woman was smiling evilly and was holding a pistol level with Normandy's eyes. " Say 'goodbye' child," she declared and began to pull the trigger.

" No!" Normandy kicked a foot up and hit something hard and square, knocking it away. " No! Get away from me! **GET AWAY FROM ME! GLEN! UNCLE!**" It was then that the child began to sob uncontrollably as she cried out.

" Her pulse is dangerously high!" a nurse reported. " We need to get her calmed down and stabilized! Where's that anesthesia?!

" I don't know what good anesthesia will do if we can't keep her still long enough to give it to her!" another nurses shouted out. " She's too strong!"

" We have to do something!" a doctor replied.

" Like what?" another man asked.

Out in the main hangar, KITT was watching the whole scene. The AI had hacked into the security system and had been watching the entire time through the security camera in the room. Ever since finding the girl, he had been curious about her as well as worried for her. He wasn't sure why, but in some way, he felt... drawn to her... like they were somehow connected.

As he continued to watch, KITT became even more and more sympathetic to the girl's case and could practically feel her agony as he watched her thrash and scream. The AI began to feel frustrated. He was programmed specifically to help people and, right now, there was a child in absolute torment, who needed help, in his very home, and he was doing nothing! KITT decided that he couldn't just sit by and watch—he had to do _**something**_! The question was: what?

Sighing heavily, the AI scanned over his files and the internet to see if he could find anything that might help in the situation. He soon came to the conclusion that he would find nothing there, so he tried a different tactic. Taking a cue from his old partner, KITT decided to "play it by ear". When he finally came to a decision of what to do, the AI began to put his plan into action. He wasn't entirely sure if this was going to work, but he had a good and strange feeling that it would. Besides, it couldn't be any worse than what they were already trying to do. Patching into the intercom system in the infirmary, the AI began to play soft soothing music over the intercom. And then he began to speak. " It's all right, child," he crooned softly and smoothly. " Hush, now, it's all right. You're safe here. We will not harm you."

The people in the room all looked up at the intercom in amazment. Were their ears playing tricks on them, or was that really the AI speaking over the PA system?

" Is that really KITT?" of the of the doctors questioned.

Upon first hearing the music, Normandy had begun to quiet and listen, and now that there was a voice she began to focus in on that. In her delirium, she wasn't sure where or who the voice was coming from, but she did know that wherever and whoever it was, it made her feel oddly safe and warm. As she listened to the gentle, soothing, easy-listening-to voice, the thirteen-year-old's struggles all but stopped. Her pulse began to slow down. The taut muscles in her body began to relax and her respiration rate began to even out. She'd heard the doctor say something, and, even though the word made absolutely no sense to her and she had no idea what she was saying, she latched onto it. " KITT?" she whimpered the mysterious word. " KITT?"

Having got her attention, KITT smiled to himself inside his silicon shell. Good, she was calming down. Now he just had to keep talking to her while the doctors did their job. " Shh," he soothed again gently. " Shh, it's all right, little one. You're safe here, I promise you. No one will hurt you here."

Normandy released a sigh and laid back on the bed, eyes closed. " KITT?" she whimpered the word again, perhaps trying to make sense of it in her poisoned state.

KITT couldn't deny the fact that whenever the girl said his name a feeling of happiness and warmth came over him, even though he was aware that she had no idea who he was much less what she was saying. It was quite strange, considering he was an AI and, by definition, was not truly meant to have feelings. But, somehow... for this girl he did feel something. He felt the unbearable urge to take this child into his protection and safeguard her, to let her know that she was safe and that she was... KITT wasn't sure what else he wanted her to know, but he knew he somehow needed to let her know it. Right now, however, all he could settle for was to continue soothing her. " Hush, it's all right. Everything is going to be all right. Trust me."

KITT watched and continued to talk as the doctors successfully administered the anesthesia to the girl and got her stabilized. Then he watched as one of the doctors turned to the security camera and gave him a thumbs up. He allowed the scanner on the prow of the Trans Am to sway to-and-fro at a happy, pleased pace, but even then the AI kept his attention on the now sleeping child. For the rest of the night KITT kept a vigil over the girl, making sure that everything was all right, calming her when she began to whimper from a nightmare or pain and contacting one of the medical staff when the latter occurred.

And inside the infirmary, Normandy slept under the power of the drugs. But even they couldn't stop her mind from dreaming about that warm and inviting voice that would speak to her ever so often. Not even the drugs could prevent her from dreaming of her invisible guardian angel. 


End file.
